Before We Fall (2 page)

“
Lover
would indicate that I bury my dick in your sweet pussy.” I glance at her, then reach out to run my finger over the swell of one of her tits, then trail it downward to her crotch. She arches toward my touch. “And you know I won’t do that.”

I pull my hand away abruptly and Kira scowls. “Yeah, I know that. What I
don’t
know is why. Dominic, you’ve got needs too. Watching other people fuck or jacking off and coming on my face can’t be enough. Sex isn’t just sex, Dom. You need all the good stuff that comes along with it.”

“Oh, I do, do I?” I ask, amused now. “Like what? Like having women get attached and hoping that I’ll marry them? Or worrying that I’ll get some fucking disease or…”

“Just stop.” Kira interrupts me with a glare. “
I know you
, Dom. I know why you do what you do. You don’t want to get close to someone again. You don’t want to give anyone that kind of power over you. But Dom… it’s time. It’s time for you to finally get over her and come back to life.”

“One, don’t talk about her.” I instruct Kira icily, staring at her hard. “You know better than that. And two, are you insinuating that I’m not living?”

Kira sighs as she pulls her shirt on, forgoing her bra. She stuffs it into her purse and glances up at me.

“You know damn well what I’m insinuating. You’ve been a shell for six years, Dom. Six fucking years. That’s a long time. I’ve been patient. I’ve done everything you needed. But there comes a time when a girl needs to be fucked. I’ve got needs, Dominic.”

I have to chuckle now at the idea that I’m the only one Kira’s depending on for her “needs.” “Oh, yeah. Because you don’t have anyone else to fulfill your needs when I’m not here?”

She glares at me. “You’re a dick sometimes. I’ve got to work early in the morning, so I’ve gotta go. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

I nod even though I know I won’t. I bury my face into the couch cushions, realizing I’m suddenly exhausted and just want to sleep. I don’t even hear Kira leave. But I do hear when someone else comes in a few minutes later, right when I’m ready to slip into sleep.

“Dom, what the fuck? You were supposed to pull me out of the game so that I didn’t lose my shirt.”

I reluctantly open one eye to stare at my brother and find that he
actually
lost his shirt. He’s standing in front of me bare-chested. My eyes dip down and I cringe.

He lost his pants, too.

“What the hell, Sin? Put some fucking clothes on.”

My brother grins—that cocky, rakish grin that his fans love so much—as he plops himself down onto the sofa next to me, buck-ass naked, crossing his feet at the ankle on the coffee table.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if you’d pulled me out of the poker game like I asked you to.” He shrugs, picking up my glass of whiskey and drinking it all. “Those drunk chicks know how to play poker. Or I just wanted to take my clothes off. One or the other.”

I glare at him. “I couldn’t bail you out because I was taking care of a situation for you. Fuck, man. You’ve got to stop having these parties. Someone’s gonna get raped or killed and they’re going to sue the shit out of you.”

Sin only grins, unconcerned. “If they’re dead, they can’t sue me.”

I can’t argue with that logic. Instead, I tell him what he missed, not that it bothers him much. He sees it all the time.

“Thanks for fixing it,” he tells me casually, as though near-rapes are normal. I roll my eyes.

“Anytime. Now can you get some fucking clothes on?”

He waggles his dark eyebrows. “Sure. If it makes you insecure to look at my package. Not only am I older, but I’m also bigger, and that’s what counts.”

He’s also ridiculous. He’s not a centimeter bigger than I am, but I don’t waste my breath telling him that.

He yanks one of my shirts out of my suitcase and pulls it over his head. Then a pair of my pants. He forgoes underwear, which means I’ll have to burn those jeans.

“I forgot to ask how long you’re staying,” he asks as he settles back into the seat, unconcerned that he just ruined my favorite jeans. “Long enough to catch a show, I hope. It’s all I’ve heard about for months from Duncan… how you don’t even come watch your poor little brothers play.”

I roll my eyes. “Poor little brothers? I think both of you are doing just fine.”

Sin snorts. “Only as well as you, big bro. But whatever. We have a show coming up in Chicago next month. If you want to fly back in, we’ll get you backstage passes.”

I shake my head. “I’ll try. Filming starts in a couple of weeks. But I’ll see what I can do. I don’t want to upset baby Duncan.”

“What about me?”

My youngest brother saunters into my room, dropping onto the sofa next to Sin. Neither of them have any personal space issues, that’s for sure, because now we’re all three crammed onto the one sofa. And we’re too big for that shit.

“Nothing,” I assure Duncan. “I just said I didn’t want to offend your ovaries by not coming to your next show. I’ll try like hell to be there.”

“That’s the furthest thing from my mind right now,” Duncan announces, cracking open the can of beer in his hand. “You can see me bang on the drums any time. What I’d like to bang tonight are the half-naked women beyond these very doors. I fucking love your house, man,” he tells Sin. “Oh, and there’s a chick asking for you. Said she wants to make sure you know that your brother rescued her. Or some shit.”

Sin rolls his eyes, but I elbow him. “It’s probably the girl from the pool. You’d better talk to her and autograph her tits or something. You need to keep her happy so that she doesn’t think to call the police. You don’t want that kind of press, dude. Not after Amsterdam.”

The mere mention of how the tabloids had ripped Sin’s band up over a wild party in Amsterdam a month ago is enough to sober the two of them up. There had been some underage girls there, groupies who had lied about their age, and if it weren’t for the more lax laws in Europe, my brothers would’ve been screwed.

Sin nods now.

“Fine. Take me to her,” he tells Duncan. To me, he hands the bottle of whiskey and says, “Do you ever get tired of being right? Jesus Christ.”

“Not yet,” I tell him as I gulp down a few swigs, then slide down into the sofa again, closing my eyes. “It’s a burden though.”

My brothers chuckle as they walk out and I relax, enjoying the way the whiskey has loosened my muscles, the way the warmth has spread to every bit of me. It helps me stay numb… and numbness is a welcome fucking thing.

When I’m numb, I feel safe enough to slip my hand into my pocket. Not for my dick, although that’s normal for me, too. No, I wrap my fingers around the cool stone of the pendant that is always there, encased in a white shell and resting against my leg.

The last thing that fills my mind before I sleep is a color.

Aquamarine.

When I open my eyes, almost two hours have passed. I know this by the fuzzy green light of the clock. I’m a little disoriented as I sit up and look around at furnishings that aren’t mine, until I remember that I’m not home. I’m at my brother’s house for the weekend.

“Morning, sunshine.” A soft voice startles me.

Snapping my head around, I find the gorgeous blonde with the strange name from the pool.

She’s sitting in the darkness now, scrolling through her phone.
Has she been watching me sleep? Or was she just too polite to wake me up?

Either way, I fight back a growl that my privacy has been invaded.

“What are you doing in here?”

She’s perched on the side of the bed, watching me. She’s even hotter than I remember her being: long legs, full tits, tiny waist. I usually prefer taller women, but this girl is perfectly proportioned… and there’s something excruciatingly sexy about her. Something about her just screams
fuck me.

She shrugs now, unconcerned with my agitation, her long blond hair falling over the side of her shoulder.

“Your brother sent me up. My friend Kaylie is going to be staying the night here, apparently. With him.”

“And?” I raise an eyebrow.

Is this supposed to shock me? This shit happens all the time with Sin. He doesn’t give a shit about sloppy seconds. He says that’s what condoms were made for. Fucking rock stars. They’ll fuck anything that isn’t nailed down.

Jacey stares at me, unabashed and definitely not intimidated, her eyes flashing in the dark.

“And she was my ride. Your brother said you’d be happy to drive me home.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Annoyance wells up in me and I glance at the clock. Two fucking
A.M.

She nods. “Yeah. He said that he lets you take up garage space here to store your car, so the least you could do is drive it for him once or twice.”

“He told you to say that, right?”

She nods again. “Yeah. He said he would rather you take me than call me a cab. He doesn’t want some random cabbie tweeting about the party.”

As much as I hate to admit it, that’s pretty smart. Everyone around here loves to hear news about Sin Kinkaide, and he tries hard to keep his parties secret. Or, at least, the nature of his parties. I sigh.
Fuck
.

“Okay,” I tell her tiredly. “I’ll take you. Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” she tells me graciously, leaning back against the silk bed cushions. I can’t help but appreciate her tiny uniform. It’s barely more than a swimsuit, and her tits peek out of the top. I look away, not letting her see that I appreciate her tight body.

Girls like her… they can sense the slightest bit of interest and they latch on like piranhas. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Never mind the fact that she’s trying to act uninterested now, unimpressed with who I am. She’s just pissed that I shut her down earlier.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water before I head back out and grab my keys from the nightstand.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

She follows me down through the thumping music and the people, the ones dancing and the ones fucking in dark corners. Seriously. Sin’s parties get out of control. I’m eternally glad that I don’t live his life, with people flooding my house day and night.

The entire world might know my face, but I’m actually a very private person. Every time I come here, I’m always ready to go home by the end of the weekend. It might be entertaining, but trying to avoid all the people who want to interact with me is exhausting.

I lead her past the seven stalls in his garage, to where my charcoal-gray 911 takes up one of the slots. It’s my Chicago car. I keep it here so that I have something to drive whenever I come home, something I can take out on the track and race when I get bored. I have one just like it at my house in California, because what’s better than one Porsche? Two.

Jacey takes in the car, her dark eyes widening in appreciation, but she doesn’t say a word. She simply slides inside, and as she does, I notice that she’s definitely wearing panties. I see a glimpse of red satin through the cuff of her short shorts as she crosses her legs. I smirk, because she doesn’t know it, but I fucking love red satin on a woman.

She fastens her seatbelt, curling up in the seat like she was born there, oblivious to my approval of her underwear choice.

“Where do you live?” I ask instead as the boxer engine roars to life in the way only a Porsche’s can.

“Down by Eighty-Seventh Street,” she answers, staring out the window as we roll down my brother’s driveway past the manicured lawns.

“Calumet Heights?” I ask, picturing the older Chicago neighborhood in my head. She nods.

“Wow, you still remember your hometown. Impressive.”

I roll my eyes, not sure if she’s being sarcastic or not. “I’ll never forget where I came from.”

The car’s engine purrs as we make our way toward the gates, and casually I glance to the side, expecting to see the green lawns, trees, and shadows of my brother’s estate. But something else is there, and I freeze, my hands tightening on the wheel as I slam on the brakes.

“What the fuck?” Jacey sputters in confusion as her body jerks forward. But I’m already out of the car and striding toward the two people sitting on the bench to our left.

My sister Fiona and my one-time best friend, Cris fucking Evans, look up at me in surprise from the dark. Her arms are wrapped around his neck. His tongue was down her throat thirty seconds ago.

“What the—” Cris manages to say before I yank him off the bench and throw him to the ground. “What the fuck, Dominic?” he barks out, scrambling to get to his feet and balance on his lanky-ass legs, poised to lunge at me if he has to.

I smile grimly and glance at Fiona. “What the hell is going on, Fi? Tell me it’s not what it looks like.”

My sister sighs and calmly stands up, approaching me carefully.

“It’s probably what it looks like. Cris and I are dating, Dom. I wanted to tell you, but with things the way they are between you… well, I was scared about how you would react.”

I ignore the ice water that seems to pump through my heart.

“Naturally,” I answer calmly. “Of course you are. Because obviously you wanted to find the biggest douche on the planet and date him. If that’s the case, you did a stellar job.”

“Dom.” Fiona sighs again. “I don’t know what he did to you, but six years is a long fucking time to carry a grudge. You need to get over it and move on. I love him, and you’re going to have to live with that.”

“You… what?” The words feel like wood on my tongue, dry and heavy. I can’t even believe what I just heard.

Fiona stares at me, her green eyes assessing me carefully. “I love him.”

I hear Cris breathing in front of me and see Jacey standing on the perimeter, but everything fades instantly away but this: Cris and Fiona. Together.

The idea that my baby sister would stab me in the heart like this is unfathomable.

“How could you do this?” I demand of her. “You know how I feel about him, Fiona. Does the phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’ mean anything to you? You’re way better than he is, and he doesn’t deserve you. He’s too fucking old for you anyway. Jesus.”

There’s a brief pause while Fiona slides her hands to her hips, then she erupts.

“Jesus Christ,” my baby sister snaps. “You’ve got to get over yourself. He was your best friend, Dom. Someone who I grew up with too. And for all these years, you’ve expected all of us to just take your word for it that he’s some sort of monster without telling us why. If you want us to have your back, you have to trust us with a good reason. If what he did to you was so fucking bad, then you need to tell me what the fuck he did.”

I swallow hard, because the only way I can effectively warn her away from Cris is to tell her the truth. And I can’t do that. The wound is that fucking deep, open, and raw. It’s years old and it still stings as much as it ever did. I can barely even think about it, much less talk about it.

I take a deep breath, then another. As I do, I notice that Jacey has walked up and is hovering in the shadows, watching us uncertainly. I look away from her and back to my sister.

“Can’t you just trust me?” I finally ask slowly. “As your big brother, can’t you just fucking trust me?”

Cris starts to say something, but I snarl at him. My sister holds out a hand toward him in caution before she looks back to me. She knows me well enough to know that talking to Cris is only going to set me off.

“Dominic, I love you even though you’re bullheaded. I do trust you. But we grew up with Cris, and I trust him too. I know this somehow must involve Emma. But Dom, she’s gone. Whatever happened, it’s not relevant anymore.”

Fuck
. The mere mention of Emma’s name is a sucker punch to my gut and I want to bend over so that I can breathe. I also want to toss my sister over my shoulder and carry her away… far, far away from Cris.

Not relevant?
Untrue. It will be relevant until the day I die.

Fiona stares at me, waiting for me to say something. But the words won’t come.

I can’t tell her all of the things that she ought to know. I can’t force the ugly words out of my chest where they’ve been hidden for so long. It’s best to leave them buried. That’s definitely one thing I’ve learned in life.

“Why don’t you ask Cris what he did?” I ask bluntly, staring a hole into my ex-best friend’s fucking forehead. “Just ask. See if he’ll tell you the truth.”

Cris opens his mouth, but Fiona shakes her head.

“We’re not doing this here, Dominic. We’ll discuss it when we’re calmer. And don’t you think I’ve asked before? He said if you want to talk about it, you will.”

What a fucker.

Cris clears his throat and I stare at him, looking at him closely. He’s been gone for years, away at college and then building up a business. But he looks the same as he ever did. Longish blond hair, blue eyes, lanky form. The years haven’t hardened him like they’ve hardened me, something else that pisses me off about him. He speaks now, hesitantly.

“Dom, we’ve got to stop this. It’s been years, years of blaming me for something that wasn’t my fault. It’s time to let it go.” He drops his big, lanky-ass hands and stares at me, waiting for a reaction, and all I can do is stare at him incredulously.

For a minute, I don’t see the man in front of me, I don’t even see the boy I grew up with… the boy I played little league with, made forts with, caught frogs with. I see a name.

His name.

Spoken from my dying girlfriend’s lips. I wince as I remember how pale she was, how she was shaking and cold, how she could barely speak, but she still managed to say his name.

I glare at him, trying like hell to not wrap my hands around his pathetic neck and squeeze.

“Not your fault? Really? Because the last thing she said was your name. Your. Name. Not mine. Not her mom’s or her dad’s. Yours. We both know why your name was the last thing on her lips. And you honestly have the balls to stand there and tell me that I have no right to be mad at you?”

Cris looks at me, his expression pained, his eyes guarded. I hear Fiona gasp, but her hand clamps over her mouth and she doesn’t make another sound. I’m sure this is the first she’s heard of any of this… of Emma’s last words.

Cris steps toward me.

“That’s not what I said. I said it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t say you didn’t have a right to be mad. You do. You have the right to be pissed at the whole fucking situation. But it was a long time ago. And you don’t know everything that happened. You wouldn’t talk to me before I left and you’ve never picked up the phone, so I can explain—”

“And I’m not going to start now,” I interrupt. “I don’t give a shit about anything you have to say. And I don’t give a fuck that it was a long time ago. It happened and I’ll never forget it.”

“I’m dating Fiona,” Cris says bluntly. “So you’ve got to try.”

I shake my head. “Fuck you. That’s Fiona’s choice, not mine. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do.”

I turn to leave, and he says, “And you wonder why Emma did what she did?”

That’s when I see red.

It billows in from the corners of my eyes like red fog filling my vision, and I lunge at Cris with a roar. I can’t hear, I can’t think. All I can do is move. Everything is just a blur of fists, swearing, and grunts.

I feel his hair in my fist and then my knuckles connect with his face, over and over; his jaw, his cheekbone, his eye. The next thing I’m aware of is Jacey thrusting herself in the middle of us, catching me mid-punch. The side of my fist grazes her cheek and her hand flies to her face, cupping it. But she still struggles to get us apart.

Fiona rushes up to Cris, her fingers dabbing at his bleeding lip, her arms hugging him close.

“What the fuck, Dom?” she shrieks, her arm wrapped around Cris’s shoulder as if she’s shielding him from me. “You’re a fucking lunatic. Get the fuck out of here.”

I try to ignore the pain of the… the idea that not only would my sister date my worst enemy, but that she had the balls to bring him here, where she had to know I’d be.

It’s definitely a betrayal and it’s something I would never do to her. I take a breath, ragged and raw, and stare at her, not wanting to say anything that I’ll regret.

“I’m staying here while I’m in town, Fiona.
You
get the fuck out of here. And take that waste of space with you.”

Fiona stares at me in hurt and rage and disbelief as she leads Cris away. Before we can get back to our car, red and blue lights burst to life around us. They flash against our faces, lighting us up against the night.

“Holy shit, someone called the cops.”

Jacey inhales sharply and stares at me, one hand limp on my arm, the other holding her cheek. She’s covered in blood now, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or Cris’s. Or maybe even her own. But I don’t have time to find out.

Two cops are approaching us, and what comes next happens in a blur, both because of all the whiskey I’ve been drinking and the fact that Cris clocked me hard in the temple.